


Find Your Way

by welcometothisday



Series: Find Your Way Home. You Are Free [1]
Category: God of War (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 17:19:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20745887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometothisday/pseuds/welcometothisday
Summary: Spoilers for God of War:The Just? She wasn’t entirely sure why she earned that name, but she had a feeling Tyr had something to do with it. The bastard always made things seem better than they really were. He made her seem, better than she really was. He was the paragon for all people, and for some reason, he chose to be her friend.It was wondrous when one considered they were friends long before any prophecy that practically declared she would be a brooding mare, die, and…Leave her family to face everything, alone. Yes, she placed markings everywhere, including in the deepest, most barren parts of the realms. It took her years, but she wanted to at least give them something. She commissioned Sindri and Brok for an axe, not only for her own use, but for theirs.She didn’t even know their faces yet, and Jotenheim’s art left much to be desired at times. She knew the man would be pale as a ghost and her son would be an archer. She told the others not to tell her any more of their appearances. She wanted to know them as her own. She wanted to know them.…What a horrible wife and mother she was going to be.





	Find Your Way

**Author's Note:**

> This story is entirely from Faye's POV.

Faye focused, aiming for her prey. A deer had wandered into her vision. The stars shone bright this night, and the breaths of the deer and Faye were visible. Well, almost for Laufey the Just.

The Just? She wasn’t entirely sure why she earned that name, but she had a feeling Tyr had something to do with it. The bastard always made things seem better than they really were. He made her seem, better than she really was. He was the paragon for all people, and for some reason, he chose to be her friend.

It was wondrous when one considered they were friends long before any prophecy that practically declared she would be a brooding mare, die, and…Leave her family to face everything, alone. Yes, she placed markings everywhere, including in the deepest, most barren parts of the realms. It took her years, but she wanted to at least give them something. She commissioned Sindri and Brok for an axe, not only for her own use, but for theirs.

She didn’t even know their faces yet, and Jotenheim’s art left much to be desired at times. She knew the man would be pale as a ghost and her son would be an archer. She told the others not to tell her any more of their appearances. She wanted to know them as her own. She wanted to know them.

…What a horrible wife and mother she was going to be.

At least Jörmungandr tolerated her company after her people died. It was likely only because they could both speak Jotun, and it was the only language he knew how to speak. Perhaps her husband and son wouldn’t be entirely alone.

There came a time where they couldn’t speak anymore though, seeing as Thor was watching for her. She never wanted to fight, but she would if she needed to. And Thor? Unlike him, she had a future to look forward to.

It was snowing, so Faye felt like she had some semblance of her home returned to her.

Seeing the snowy white deer, she felt a connection with it somehow. She wondered, how a creature such as it felt about someone else deciding its fate for it. She wondered, how her husband and child would feel, of how someone might try to force it upon them, on her? Her choices were often taken from her, but maybe, just maybe, she could change something for them, if no one else.

Releasing her arrow, she winced as she felt pain lace through the same area where the deer was struck. Scrambling down the hill, she took out her knife, and swiftly eased its pain. Uttering a few words to offer comfort, she stroked its snout, inhaling deeply as it let out its last breath.

A flare of red caught her attention, and she instinctively drew up her bow, narrowing her eyes. Then, it took a great deal not to react. It was a man, with a wound in his side. There were chains upon his arms, tied to blades. The red came from tattoos, swirling upon his form. His skin was nearly grey, grey as a haunted spirit.

It was _him_, and he looked…Angry, or at the very least frustrated.

Blinking, she considered what to do. Then, she glanced at his wound again, wincing at the sight of it. It looked like he’d been stabbed, and rather violently. Tentatively, she took out her medicine and bandages.

“Can you patch yourself up?” she asked, showing him the items in her hands.

Great, that was the very first thing she was going to say to her husband, and hopefully love of her life? What kind of moron was she?

He stared back, slowly nodding.

So, he was the silent kind of man? Well, maybe actions spoke louder than words. Carefully approaching him, she handed him the medicinal supplies, as well as flint to light a fire.

“Don’t take any of the trees out here,” she advised. “They’re too wet to use. Stick to those closer to caves. Those are protected by charms for travelers.”

He cautiously nodded once more, his stare making her somewhat uneasy. Faye wasn’t used to people being taller than her. It was, oddly nice. She lightly bowed her head to him in acknowledgement and paused as she turned her back to him.

“…I cannot eat the deer all by myself. You can have some if you like.”

He stiffened but nodded once more. She wouldn’t question him on whether he didn’t speak of his own volition or otherwise. She had a feeling they both had secrets to keep. She certainly did. However, before her sentence finished, he started to fall. Gasping, she ran over, catching him to the best of her abilities, unfortunately getting knocked back into the snow by his weight with a yelp.

The man was heavy. Faye seriously started to reconsider how she liked how he stood over her. It only made him harder to move. Grimacing, she looked between him and her deer. She could try to come back later, but the likelihood of it being there did not bode well. Sighing, she carried him home.

* * *

Her future husband had a fever, no doubt because of his wounds. She could do nothing about the chains upon him now, but the unformed scar upon his abdomen? That she could work with.

Cautious, she cleaned out his wound, jumping slightly when he growled, and found herself blushing slightly. Apparently, he could make sound at the very least. And, pleasant ones too. Faye tried not to get distracted by his muscles as she sewed him up.

Wiping her forehead, she cleaned them both up (without removing his modesty) and prepped what little of a meal she could. Tired, she pressed her hand against his forehead. He was burning. As in, literally burning. He was almost on fire!

She squeaked as a hard grip captured her wrist, her eyes watering as the man glared for a long moment. All of her fears of her possible future husband started to hit her at once. That he would be cruel, that he would hurt her, that he would….

She whimpered, “Please, let go.”

His eyes widened, and he flew back as though she had a plague. “I…”

Smiling awkwardly, she adjusted the pillows, ignoring the pain in her arm. She couldn’t hide how it was shaking though, or how her voice croaked. “Bad dreams?”

He nodded, and she smirked, relaxing as she nodded back. “I won’t ask unless you wish me to. For now, would you like some soup?”

She wouldn’t tell him there wasn’t enough for her.

He watched her, suspicion and distrust there. Faye couldn’t blame him. He nodded again. She was starting to think that was the only way he’d ever truly communicate with her. She got up, rubbing her arm as she turned her back, not wanting him to see. From his expression, he was remorseful, albeit confused.

Facing him, she offered the bowl, monitoring his state. He was no longer shaking or trembling. In fact, he was tense, controlling himself. His jaw was clenched tightly to the point she could see the veins and arteries pulsing against the tightening muscles. He was obviously still in pain. What a stubborn fool he was. But, considering he’d been stabbed…

He avoided touching her as he took it. She was about to offer a spoon, when he chugged it all down. Gaping slightly, she tried not to laugh at his embarrassed flush. Smiling softly, she asked, “Another?”

“…Yes.”

Finally, a monosyllable word from him. And, complete with an odd accent. It was a nice voice, and a nice accent. Oh shoot, she should’ve remembered he’s not from here! What if he hadn’t known Norse?! Idiot! Massive, bloody idiot!

Faye was tempted to ask where’d he come from. Yet, was that truly important? She had so many questions, as he probably did. She doubted either of them could give the answers each other needed.

Pouring him some more soup, she flinched as she realized he was trying to get up. Rushing over, she gently pressed him back down. “Oh no, I just spent over an hour sewing you back up. If you-“

Then she caught sight of his abdomen, quickly healing.

“…Oh.”

And, she was touching him. She was touching his chest. His oh so muscly chest. Crap.

Slowly stepping back, and grateful she wasn’t blushing on account of him healing as a god would. She’d seen enough of Baldr’s and Thor’s wounds. Yes, she healed quickly as well, but nowhere as much as this god. This was, more than intimidating.

Blinking, she arched a brow, and handed over the soup.

“…You won’t ask?”

Hey, a full sentence! This was her lucky day, wasn’t it?

Gods the urge to laugh like a madwoman was tempting. Perhaps she really was going mad though. After all, she waited for years for this man, having expected him for nearly half her life without knowing what to expect from him as a person. How many nightmares had she had about being married to the same kind of being who tortured, raped, and slaughtered the lives of innocents? The kind of being who tried to hunt her down every day, and she feared what they might do to her. What _he’d_ do to her.

For all her hopes, she still expected the worst. She’d had to.

At the same time though? Perhaps she was being too optimistic, but seeing a fraction of regret from him made him so much more than most gods she’d known. He hadn’t even touched her until he fell on top of her through no conscious effort on his part…He was scared to touch her for reasons unknown to her.

Gods didn’t do that.

“Not unless you want me to,” she murmured. Clasping her hands in front of her, she looked to the fire. “You may rest here, should you wish. I’ll try to be quiet. I need to tend to chores within my home.”

He was nodding again. Why wasn’t she surprised?

She paused, “Um, do you need your stitches-?” He held up the remnants of them. “Okay, then.”

And off she went, tending to the hearth and cleaning dishes. It was as she was doing that, her stomach growled. Blushing, she continued doing dishes, ignoring the sound, and hoping he hadn’t heard it.

“You haven’t eaten.”

It wasn’t a question. “…No, I haven’t.”

“The deer?”

She grimaced, not looking at him. “I wasn’t going to leave you. If I’m fortunate, the weather will keep wolves away from it.”

Truth was, she hadn’t eaten in days. She didn’t need to eat as often as humans. Being a giantess, and one who had to fight most of her life, Faye was used to days, maybe even weeks, without food. She could last. The stranger? Even if he was a god? She wasn’t too sure on.

Those wounds were concerning.

“I will get the deer.”

“You’re injured and-!” Turning around, she swiftly turned back around, her back to him. “Er, there’s more clothes over on the mantle.”

Whelp, he was uh, impressive in multiple ways. By the World Tree, she was so doomed. Too big. Too scary. Too…Much. He was far too much.

Lifetimes waiting for him, and he was still too bloody much.

There was a grunt, and she heard a quiet, gruff apology. It was reluctant as well, as though he were unused to saying such things. After a moment, he said he was clothed. Tentative, she glanced back, letting out an inward sigh of relief.

Frowning, she said, “You still shouldn’t go out. It’s cold as Hel out there, and you just…Are you even fully recovered?”

He nodded, again. “I will get the deer.”

“…You’re, you just-“ He was unbelievable. She held her head in her hands, trying not to get frustrated. Thinking, she walked over the other side of her home, picking up her normal weapon. “You can borrow this. It’s the Leviathan Axe. You can throw it and recall it back in your hand.”

He tested it in his hands. “It’s light.”

“Easier to throw with,” she drawled, picking up her bow and quiver. He looked grumpy, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to leave someone who was near half dead a little over three hours ago into the icy snow like this.”

He grunted. “Fine.”

Walking out, she knew as he squinted and blinked, that he couldn’t see much past the thick white.

She began walked, purposefully scraping her feet on the ground. “You don’t always need to see to hunt. There are patterns, even with the snow covering them.”

Faye didn’t say it in a demeaning manner, only factual. At least she hoped she conveyed that. He didn’t know this land. He didn’t know her. She wasn’t going to fault him for any of it. She smirked, “You can try out the Leviathan, by the way. If you need to see, it’ll clear up part of the snow falling. Just, don’t hit me, please. As I’m sure you’re aware, nearly dying isn’t fun.”

The man had a grave expression, but there was a small light in his pupils. It reminded her of silent soldiers who had their eyes laugh for them instead of their mouths or words. He picked up the axe and threw it. Confused at first, she told him, “Lift your hand back into the position you threw it from.”

He did so, the handle falling into his calloused palms. She could’ve sworn he made a small sound of surprise, but again, she wasn’t going to say anything about it. Instead, she nodded, and walked alongside him, letting him toss her axe back and forth repeatedly.

“I think you’re getting more enjoyment out of it then I do,” she chuckled. He glared. It wasn’t harsh, just annoyed. “I did the same thing when it was first gifted to me. The smithies weren’t pleased, but at least we all knew they worked.”

She missed Sindri and Brok.

Faye carried her bow and quiver as she walked with him, beside him, and just ahead. He scowled, but followed her regardless. There was a long silence, but Faye was coming to like it a little. It allowed for one to think, to take the world in around them. They arrived at the deer’s corpse, and she grimaced, knowing her sorrow was there.

“It is dead.”

This time, it was a question. He was questioning why she was sad even though they had a feast before them. “Call me a fool, but I don’t like the idea of suffering or allowing living beings to freeze, regardless of whether or not they’re dead.”

“…You are a fool.”

She snorted a small laugh, hearing a hint of a playful tone there. Then, he was far, far too close. He was ready to bolt. She could feel it as he reached down and picked up the deer. “Are you sure you can-?”

Glare.

“Okay.”

Why did males always have such fragile egos?

It was halfway back that they began hearing the howling of wolves. Faye narrowed her eyes, taking out her bow and arrows.

“Wolves.”

“Yes,” he responded gruffly, taking up the axe. How he could hold that large of a deer on one shoulder, and an axe in his hand, helped Faye understand this was no ordinary man. She tried not to show her concern, but it was still evident. “I will be fine.”

She was half tempted to ask him to promise that, but knew it wasn’t her place. It rarely ever was.

Eyes widening, she scowled, “Behind you!”

She fired an arrow right behind him, into the heart of a wolf. Behind her soon to be spouse, was a small pack of them.

“They are, big.”

Why did he sound fascinated? Oh, please don’t get in wrestling matches with them like Tyr did. Faye just patched him up and didn’t want to clean up some more anytime soon. Would her heart even take that?! “Are they smaller back where you-? Nevermind, it’s none of my business. I can take care of them. You get back home.”

Don’t think about how she may or may not have made it sound like her home was also his. He was about to say something, when she fired three more arrows, getting most of them. The largest one somehow managed to sneak up on her, but she fought it off by slashing its throat with one of her knives. Twisting, she shot the last one in the throat, and ran over, plunging her knife into its heart.

Swallowing, and taking a moment to collect what little mental faculties she had. Walking back to him, she caught him staring and was grateful she maintained her composure. She'd heard of how people in other places did not like the idea of women fighting. So far, he certainly hadn't. Suddenly, the silence felt uncomfortable. What did he even think of her? “Are you all right?”

He was puzzled. “…No.”

“Then how do I help you make things a little easier?” she asked, looking to the deer. “I can carry part of the load?”

He shook his head and walked forward. It only occurred to her afterward, that he may not have been talking about the wolves or the deer.

What happened to him?

* * *

“What is your name?”

Oh, right, they hadn’t introduced themselves. “Faye.”

“…Kratos.”

As in, _the_ God of War? The one that Tyr mentioned? One of the cruelest souls he’d ever encountered? And he’d known Odin?! But, even if she kept secrets, needed to, she would tell the truth to the best of her abilities. “A Greek name. I should’ve figured that out from your tattoos.”

When he gave her a look, she shrugged. “I may prefer to live alone now, but I used to live amongst people before the storms grew harsher. We had many a traveler, though few Greek themselves. The Romans didn’t uh, paint Greece in a positive light, but we didn’t quite like them either. Had a habit of pillaging.”

She did her best to sound light about the subject, and shockingly, she saw a hint of upward turned lips. Even a fraction of a smile was heartwarming. Would, would she have fallen in love even had it not been for the prophecy? Her fate being controlled by others once more? Deep down, even if she didn’t know him very well, she easily believed she could have.

What was wrong with her? She just met the guy!

“Can I keep this?”

He was gesturing to his outfit, and about to say something else. He was probably going to offer recompense. “Keep it. Normally I help travelers of most kinds with supplies. I won’t treat you any differently.”

Kratos frowned. “It will kill you…Being kind.”

“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But I’d rather a short life with few regrets than a long one with too many to count.”

And she knew she was going to have a short life. She knew it before Kratos, but in a way, he was one of the last pieces that would seal it. The other was their son. She had hated such thoughts for so long, but decided both for the greater good, and herself, that she’d do her best to make her life worth living. She wanted to do the same for them.

But, it didn’t erase the fact that whenever she faced Kratos, she was facing death, her death, as well.

She’d never get the chance to see their little boy grow up. She wouldn’t see them meet Jörmungandr, or Sindri, or Brok or…

Kratos huffed a little and sat on the bed. She had forgotten about how he bruised her arms and pushed up the sleeves to do the dishes made from their most recent meal complete with deer meat. He hissed, and she stiffened when he suddenly appeared behind her, his hand reaching for her arm. Memories of the elders and the gods flashed behind her eyes. She instinctively turned and punched Kratos, feeling her eyes watering. He caught her fist with his hand.

She gasped, “I’m so sorry-!”

Please, don’t hurt her. She could fight off everyone else, but she couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t fight back, not when the future depended on them both.

She had to be brave. She had to stay strong, no matter what he-

“Don’t be,” he grunted, gently tugging her arm to see the bruises. “I…This is my fault.”

Oh.

“Are you jesting?” she asked most seriously. “I just hit you. We _both_ have our shares of bad memories.”

He gave her a look, and she gestured to where he had a hole in him earlier. He said nothing, but carefully released her. “I still should not have-“

“Neither of us should have,” she sighed, tying back her hair. “That doesn’t mean we can always help it. It’s why we try to do better, be better.”

When he was silent, she thought of something.

“Most evil beings don’t regret things. I’m not sure what you are, but, you’re not evil, Kratos.”

Gods don’t regret hurting people. They don’t regret killing. They don’t regret committing violations or destroying what is innocent. It’s always a game to them.

He flinched but said nothing else as he lay against the wall upon the bed. He looked uncomfortable, the chains and blades rattling. She didn’t look too closely before, but from the reddened markings around them, the iron may have been seared into his flesh. Faye touched the same area on her arm, where the markings from his hand lingered in blotches of purple and deep red. Huh, they both had chains embedded within them.

She was sorely tempted to heal herself but remembered that he wasn’t to know about her true heritage. Like, how he didn’t want her to know.

Kratos wasn’t here to do something awful. Instead, she suspected that the God of War, had just grown weary and tired for these years. Hold on, she wasn’t even two hundred years old and he was…By the Vanir, he had to be at least twice her age.

But, he was also immortal so…? Ugh, sometimes, Faye hated age differences.

* * *

“I can chop that.”

“I know.”

Faye rolled her eyes, returning to her task of patching the roof of their, her home. Kratos had taken to working there on her land, and she wasn’t about to turn him away. Had he known that? For the first few days, he’d been tentative with everything he interacted with and wasn’t sure what he could or could not do. Back then, they had the excuse of the storms keeping the two trapped, but even after them, he stayed. So, she kept him busy with little things, surprised he was willing to do so much despite being a god. Yet, Kratos wasn’t a typical god, at least to her.

The horrible thing about it though? He kept insisting to do tasks that he needn’t do. For instance, chopping firewood. He also volunteered to go hunting on her behalf even though she had proven she was efficient at it in the very least. Although, the new bearskin rug was nice, and fluffy.

Dammit, he even made her a new bed while she was out once he finally didn’t argue against hunting. He scowled when she tried to lecture him on it. “I’m not an invalid. I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were,” she stated, folding her arms. “I just like being able to do things without feeling completely useless.”

“…Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

Considering how huge he was, and the matter of his weaponry, she had never thought of him as weak. That afternoon, they went hunting together, and hunted well. And now? Now they were each doing their own share of work.

“Faye?”

Whoopee! He said her name!

“Yes?”

“Why am I allowed to live here with you?”

That was so sudden that she nearly fell off the roof. He made to catch her, but she regained herself. She had seen it though, that slight fear. She’d never seen him afraid before. Best not to say anything about it. “What brought this up?”

His hardened gaze oddly didn’t demand but pleaded despite how it might appear to others. When she was stunned, he murmured, “Faye.”

Damn it, he said her name again, and it sounded really nice. It made him harder to refuse. That was not fair at all. “…It’s selfish, but I guess I’m just glad someone’s here. I’m so used to people coming and going that, I forgot what it was for someone to be here. To, have someone near.”

She didn’t jump or flinch when he got near. In fact, she was beginning to feel more comfortable around him every day. Things had been feeling more and more natural. There were days she missed him when he left. There were moments she wanted to feel the sensation of him holding her hand as he did when he’d been concerned about her bruises.

“…What happened?”

“You’re going to need to be a little more specific,” she hummed, laying down the last piece of wood.

Kratos’ face was like stone, meant to be unreadable. “To those you used to know?”

Her smile disappeared for a moment before it became bittersweet. “The gods, the gods happened.” She didn’t pay too much attention after flinched, as though she had struck him and managed to miraculously hurt him. “They, raged war. Our lands destroyed, homes broken, and people, families, friends…Slaughtered.”

Faye was glad he couldn’t see too much of her. Her breathless chuckle was bittersweet as she raked a hand through her hair.

“As I said, Kratos, you’re not evil. I’ve known evil, and, I will never forgive them for it.”

He sucked in air, and Faye knew there was something wrong. His voice was hoarse, “Faye-“

She yelped as a wolf appeared, larger than any of the ones she’d slain, leapt onto the roof. For a moment, she wondered if it was Fenrir, and remembered he hadn’t been born yet. Standing up quickly, she protected herself by holding up her arm between its jaws and her throat. With a harsh grunt, she punched its nose. It barked as it unlatched itself from her, growling violently.

Faye was bloodied, but it wasn’t the first time. Raising her good arm, she called the axe to her side, grateful when it didn’t appear through the roof she’d just patched. With a swing, she threw it, startled when only a few shallow cuts appeared. Dizzy, she hadn’t noticed when another wolf moved behind her, biting down hard on her shoulder, the one wielding the axe. She didn’t let go, and tried to fight the best she could.

No, she’d fought hordes of monsters. She fought the very gods themselves. She would _not_ fall to a pack of measly wolves. There was a roar, and heat brushed by her face, the clatter of chains echoing by her ear. The wolf behind her screamed, falling off the side of the roof. Frozen, she watched as a red aura embraced her and her foes, the fiery blades from Kratos’ chains wrapping around some, and others slicing through the beasts.

But that wasn’t the only reason she was frozen. His energy was overwhelming compared to deities she’d known. Combine that with how she was losing a great deal of blood? It didn’t take long for her to feel dizzy, and to start falling. The red aura was gone, and warm arms held her.

“Faye.”

Her head rolled against him. “I-I’ll be, f-fine. I-”

She was shivering, the cold bothering her for once.

Faye really needed to-

* * *

It was soft, and warm. Instinctively, Faye burrowed deeper into the warmth, until she realized that that she was at least partially naked, and not voluntarily so. Tensing, she panicked, adrenaline flowing through her veins as she tried to pull back, hyperventilating.

“Faye.”

It wasn’t a yell or scream, but she still winced, remembering where she was. “K-Kratos?”

She was shaking, and he was stroking her hair, calming her. He let her breathe. “Faye?”

“…Bad memories,” she admitted, still tense. It wasn't him, not completely. “I, I’m sorry, but can you-?”

Damn it, she thought she’d gotten better. Still, he heeded her words, backing up as she held herself.

“Someone hurt you.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye. The tone and volume in his voice told more than his words, leaving no room for arguments or embellishments. He knew it wasn’t just because she was a woman waking up in a strange place with some lack of clothes (though that played a large role in it), but the visceral way she reacted showed parts of her past. It was a part of her past she never wanted to visit.

“…Yes.”

Her eyes watered, and she kept her head dipped down, unable to rid herself of the shame. Right, what kind of a person would ever want to be around something as broken as her?

“Faye…” Kratos tipped her chin up. “You are not broken, not unless you allow others to break you.”

Wait, did he read her mind? No, she had spoken out loud, and he had heard her. She gaped up at him, then laughed wetly, “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time.”

“Faye,” he grumbled as a light warning.

Aw, he was embarrassed. That was kind of cute.

“So, I guess I’ll have to do my best to believe you.” 

She snickered, raking a hand through her hair. Moving her shoulder hurt, but it reminded her that she was practically half naked. Her cheeks burned, and Faye swiftly covered herself more.

“I did nothing.”

It sounded like he was pledging to her he hadn’t harmed her.

Why did he always seem scared to touch her?

Slightly croaking, she tugged her knees to her chest, grateful the blanket covered everything. “I, I think I’d know if you did.”

There was some color on his cheeks now. “You’re-?”

“Beyond that,” she croaked, her cheeks practically on fire now. “Beyond that, I don’t think you would do something like that.” Kratos was conflicted and appeared guilty. He faced away from her. Fear flooded through her. “You haven’t, right?”

“No, I haven’t,” he answered truthfully, glancing back at her briefly. His features barely moved most of the time, but when they did, he was an open book. Looking away once more, he uttered. “I was married, many years ago. Her name was Lysandra, and our daughter was Calliope.”

That was, abrupt? Wait, why wasn’t she bothered by this? Most people would be. “…In the few myths I know, Lysandra was a queen, and Calliope one of the nine Muses. She was the, Muse of Poetry?”

His shoulders shook in silent laughter. “I suppose that’s correct. But, Lysandra and Calliope were each much more than stories.”

She waited, letting him take his time. Inhaling, he slowly breathed out. “Lysandra knew me, when I was a conqueror and warrior in the name of Ares, the God of War.”

Still holding her knees to her chest, Faye tilted her head. “I thought Athena was the God of War?”

Tyr wasn’t very good at explaining that kind of stuff. Then somehow, somewhere along the line, she knew that Kratos became the new Greek God of War, but it was a bit confusing. Maybe hearing a direct source would be better than hearsay.

“That is both correct, and not,” Kratos specified, thankfully not minding her questions. “Athena-“ his breath had hitched a little. “Athena shared the title with Ares, but she was more than just War. She was the goddess of wisdom, crafts, courage, and more.”

“So, Ares was just, chaos?”

Kratos had a hint of a smirk. It was, a little disturbing, how he did it. Almost sadistic. “Exactly. Where Athena used logic and strategy, he was merely bloodshed and mayhem.”

Faye was seriously starting to question Kratos' life decisions. From his glare, she realized she accidentally said it out loud. “Uh, sorry?”

There was another smirk, but more playful than cruel. Then, it became consumed by regret and sorrow. “You aren’t the only one to do so. Lysandra was brave, and never cowered from me. However, she did question my judgement often. She wanted to know why I offered servitude to the deity. Why I still had let him control me.”

Faye opened her mouth to ask that very same question, but winced, unsure if she should. He nodded, expecting her words. “Why did you?”

She had barely whispered. It was enough. “I vowed my soul to him, in exchange for saving myself, and my men in a war against barbarians, pillagers. I rarely break promises, and I believed as long I served him well, then my family would be well.”

He gave Faye an evened gaze, marred with regret. Faye uttered, “He didn’t. Gods don’t do that.”

His eyes widened at her grief and anger. “Faye?”

She composed herself. “The gods…Are cruel bastards.”

For some reason, that got a huff of amusement from him. It was bittersweet. “Yes, they are.”

Hesitating, she moved closer, placing a hand over his roughened one. Her own hands were calloused, but not nearly as much as his. After a moment, he squeezed her hand back.

“He placed them in a temple that I was ordered to destroy.” He grit his teeth, starting to tighten his fingers before tensing, not squeezing so much. He was thinking of how he had hurt her. “At the battle with the barbarians, he had given me weapons imbued with power, his power. It enhances rage and was enough to defeat entire armies.”

Unlike him, Faye squeezed tighter. “He tricked you.”

She should be surprised, but she wasn't.

“…Yes. I, I was blinded by my rage, and I didn’t realize what I’d done until it was too late.”

Faye hadn’t noticed she was crying until Kratos, unsure, had wiped them off her cheeks. He paused, retracting his hand after a moment. She caught his arm, halting him as she traced the chains on his arms. The chains attached to blades that radiated power.

“It’s part of your flesh now.”

“Yes.”

Narrowing her eyes at the offensive object, she offered, “I think I can remove these, if you want?”

“What?”

Kratos was astonished, confused. “Most people in this region have some knowledge of basic charms or spells. My axe was forged by someone else, but I enchant my arrows sometimes. It’s rare, due to the supplies required, but, I know at least basic healing spells from runes.”

Wariness lingered. “How would you, remove them? They were made by a god.”

“The gods can go fuck themselves.” He choked, coughing. He was also blushing. Oh right, he was a god. She’d forgotten. Oh by the World Tree, she just told him to go fuck himself. She was an idiot. “I’m no witch, but I'm decent with basic healing spells, Kratos. And if I can’t do it, then I know another just as capable, if not more so. As for being powered by a god, what is a god worth, to a nonbeliever?”

Her will was as strong as the gods. She was not prideful of it. It was just a fact.

“The power-“

Clasping his hands in hers again, she met his eyes with her own. “I use an enchanted axe, Kratos. I’ve traveled all around this realm, seeing all manner of beings and fighting when I’ve needed to against odds people have always told me was impossible. I’ve managed to survive the wrath of multiple gods, and I have no fear of this one.”

She wasn’t afraid of Ares, and she wasn’t afraid of Kratos. If only she could tell him.

He searched her gaze. “Faye…There’s more than that.”

Time to take a chance. “It’s obvious you’re not the average mortal, if that’s what you’re worried about. Humans don’t heal as quickly as you do, or carry deer so loftily, or glow when they use magical weaponry. The last one, I’ve had some experience with.”

“And it does not bother you?”

She hummed, “I wouldn’t say that. It’s more like, I’m a bit foolish when it comes to people, or so I’ve been told.” Faye reminded him, “Most evil beings don’t regret things. It’s what separates people from monsters.”

He was staring at her as though she was something make believe. “Faye, I, I sook revenge against Ares.”

Don’t react. Don’t react. “And?”

“I defeated him and I became the new God of War.” …So, Tyr wasn’t wrong. Kratos was the cruel god she’d heard of. For some reason, the image her mind had cast of him didn’t match the man before her. “Faye, I killed many innocent people, even as an ordinary man, and I regret every life I’ve taken.”

“He wasn’t the only one, was he?” She asked tentatively. “There are rumors Greece fell. That the gods died, that, the very fabric of nature had been destroyed. The pantheon, gone.”

Kratos started to pull his hand away, startled when she kept holding on. “No, he wasn’t the only one. Faye, I, I slaughtered all of the gods, including my father, Zeus.”

“The king of the gods,” she supplied, trying to stay neutral. Unable to say anything for a good, long while, she sighed, finally removing her hand to hold her head. “…So uh, I guess telling the gods to go fuck themselves has a far different meaning for you than it does me?”

She was desperately trying to tell a joke, but it fell flat, even if she got a hint of something from Kratos. Here she was, in her tiny, tiny cabin, with a god who murdered countless people, including the entire Greek Pantheon. He was also the one she was supposed to bear a child with. It was rare that someone made Faye feel small, and it wasn’t his height doing that this time.

“Yes, it holds a different meaning.”

This time, she slammed her hand into her face, in disbelief he indulged her. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she huffed out and whispered, “Fuck it.”

Despite knowing languages across multiple realms, those two words seemed to work best when applied with Kratos.

“Faye?”

Gods, why did he have to sound so nervous? Him being nervous made her nervous. “First of all, I’d think you were mad if I hadn’t seen what I had, so there’s not a lot I can doubt about your tale. Second, you’re trying to be better as far as I can tell. So, that already separates you from all the other gods I’ve ever known. It doesn’t excuse your actions, but it means you’re not evil.”

Before he could say anything, she choked out, “And, I just remembered I’m still half naked. Er, can you please-?”

He gave her clothing and turned his back to her.

Getting her clothes on quickly, she couldn’t help but murmur. “See, better than most gods already. And Kratos? You don’t have to be a god here, if you don’t want to unless you wish to. Either way, this is a place where you can be whatever you want. _Whoever_ you want.”

“There is, something else.”

“I’m fairly sure of that,” she deadpanned. “But go on.”

“…Lysandra and Calliope, when I, when I killed them.” Hearing Kratos in pain was not a sound Faye ever wanted to get used to. “I was cursed to wear their ashes.”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Oh.”

“You, aren’t going to say anything?”

Well considering one of her best friends was a blue dwarf ? Rubbing the back of her neck, Faye cleared her throat. “Um, I kind of thought that was your natural skin color? You’d be surprised how varying skin tones can be out here. But I suppose that’s why I thought you were spirit the first time we met.”

Another hint of a smile. Or, maybe that _was_ his smile. “I was called the ‘Ghost of Sparta’ before becoming a god.”

Great, so her future husband was covered in the ashes of his previous wife and child. That, that was going to make certain activities interesting to say the least. Wait, “Uh, Sparta?”

Hearing his voice was nice, especially when he spoke of more positive memories. His childhood wasn’t that bright, but there were moments of light. He told her of Lysandra, of Calliope who loved playing the flute he made her, and of Deimos and Athena. He spoke of Orkos and Althaea. He told her of Hephaestus and Pandora. He told her of a soldier named Atreus.

He had many allies, but all had perished. All his life had been controlled or hurt by those he should’ve been able to trust, and Faye couldn’t help but feel guilty over that aspect. Kratos confessed to her as if she were something sacred. As if, she could help ease some of his sins.

Faye was far from deserving of that thought.

By the end of it, it was dawn. A large part of her wanted to hold him, but doubted he wanted her to. She cried for him, and his eyes watered, but never spilled.

“Faye…”

Swallowing, she rasped, “Thor, the god of thunder? He killed my family, and everyone close to me. We were scholars, believers, and, I guess I took after my father when it came to being a fool. But we knew too much according to Odin, the king of the gods. So, he had Thor slaughter us. I, I was told to run, to leave my home and everything and everyone I knew.”

Kratos began moving away from her, pained. “I, I-“

He had gotten off the bed, and before she could blink, he vanished. Oh no, did he think she was saying _he_ was like that? That Kratos and Thor were one and the same? She moved to chase after him, but cried out when she pushed herself, the bandages on her aching. Grimacing, she looked out at the snow, seeing his footsteps in the snow.

Determined, she chased after him. Screw the pain. More than a few branches broke on her face and in her hair. Ice stung her face. Faye didn’t care.

Panting, she saw that his footsteps led outside the boundary of her home. If she left, there was a chance he could come back. Fate had a habit of doing that. But, Kratos wasn’t a tool, never to her.

Screw the prophecy. This man had been one of the best things in her life, and one she was afraid of letting go. She’d brave any storm for him. She’d fight any enemy. She’d fight for him. And…

She loved him.

Love wasn’t supposed to be quick, or simple. Yet, here she stood. No, the love wasn’t simple, they weren’t simple, but the emotions were. But, while breakable, they were hard to kill. So, when she saw the barrier, the next thing she knew, she felt its barrier slip past her.

The tracks in front of her were fresher than the rest. He was there.

“Kratos!” she called out, anger, fear, and confusion hurting her more than any of her wounds. “Kratos! You will get your cowardly arse out here and face me!”

There was a long pause, and he stepped out from behind a tree, looking more broken than she could bear. “I’m a coward to you?”

Furrowing her eyebrows, “You ran from me. What do you think?!”

His blades sparked, but quickly dissipated. His gaze wandered over her form, lingering on her shoulder. It only occurred to Faye how warm it felt. She was bleeding, wasn’t she? Next thing she knew, Kratos had tossed her axe to her. Gaping, she searched him, finding an emptiness there.

Eyes watering, she whispered, “You…You’re an idiot.”

Tossing her axe aside, she ran to him, tackling him into a hug. He fell with surprising ease, but held her close, keeping her from touching the ground. “Faye?”

“Why in Hel did you run?” she breathed. “Am I truly that frightening?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitance. Looking up at him, his voice and eyes broke something in her. “You give me hope.”

Oh. They sat there, with him under her. He was expecting for her to run from him, to hit him, anything than what she decided on. He let out a small gasp when she cupped his cheek. She squeezed his fingers as she leaned over him before getting up, helping him stand back up again.

“Let’s go home.”

It was a question, to see if he really did want to be near her. It was his choice. No seduction, no manipulation, just…Them.

He held onto her hand tightly, but not too much, and followed her back to their sanctuary. There, she got him new clothes, and he offered to help her more with chores, without taking over. It was a peaceful kind of quiet, a gentle kind.

Before they were to go to their separate beds, Kratos halted in his steps, glancing back at Faye with a question in his eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking, but what she felt…

She merely held out her hand, jumping a little as he placed his in hers once more. Slowly, they lay in her bed, just under the covers, still dressed. Faye felt exhausted, but her mind was still racing.

“Tell me a story.”

It was the first time she’d ever told him to do something instead of asking. But she still made it clear as an option, not an order.

If she wasn’t so tired, maybe she’d be embarrassed by the fact he was running his fingers through her hair, tracing her jaw and some of her braids. “…There was a tortoise and a hare. They wagered a race. The hare was confident of his victory, and foolish. The tortoise was steady, and disciplined. The tortoise won.”

She let out a small laugh, though obviously tired it was. “You, aren’t used to doing this, are you?”

Kratos didn’t give much of an answer, but the hint of a smile had returned. Their fingers intertwined upon the furs. “You are falling asleep, aren’t you?”

She tightened her grip a little as a small punishment. “ There was a bear. He found a bee hive. A bee stung his nose. In his anger, the bear struck at the bee hive. An army of bees attacked, the bear fled, and almost drowned in the pond he hid in.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” she yawned.

Faye knew what he was doing, even if he was bad at it. He was saying that seeking revenge, acting out of anger, did no good. That it caused more harm than good.

He really wasn’t like other gods. He wasn’t much of a god at all. He was Kratos, just Kratos, and that made all the difference.

The man beside her began to tell another tale as her eyes fell closed. As they did, she felt something soft and warm brush against her hand as he tugged it closer. She’d have been mortified at how he laid her palm upon his chest had she not started losing consciousness, her breathing steadying.

She was sure his lips pressed against the crown of her head before he placed their foreheads against one another.

“I love you.”

…

..

.

Well shit.

* * *

“Why are you letting me stay here?”

Faye chuckled, “Last time you asked me something like that, I fell off a roof. And, didn’t I answer you before?”

He frowned, “I’m a reminder of why you’re alone.”

With that, she tossed a dish rag at his head. Just made his baldness shinier. Huffing, she finished drying the last of the plates. “I fail to see how you’re Thor or his lackeys.”

“I’m a god, one whose-“

“Don’t make me throw another rag at you,” she lightly threatened.

Kratos narrowed his eyes, folding his arms. “I am a God of _War_. I’ve slaughtered thousands, including my own blood, and you threaten me with a dish rag? Woman, I-”

He got another wet cloth to the face. Breathing in and out, she noticed how he breathed in and out deeply to soothe the flames on his swords. He was practicing that an awful lot, wasn’t he? “What did you come here Kratos? And how long have you lived in this land?”

The so called “God of War” went silent, opening and closing his fists. “To live as a normal man…I am unsure how long it has been. Maybe, fifty years?”

So he’d lived here for a little over a quarter of her life, and she only met him recently? It felt, like so many possibilities had been washed away in those few seconds.

Faye was sorely tempted to call him an old man, but kept that joke to herself. Fragile egos and all.

Grinning, she tipped her forehead a little. “Are you sure you’re a god, then? At least to me?”

If she felt his stare on her linger than she had met his eyes for. Blushing, she hid slightly, unsure of herself. Unsure how to act. There he was, and here she was.

Sensing his confusion, and slight agitation, she picked up her bow and quiver. Gesturing outside, he joined her without saying a word, their axe in his hand. She smiled, and they moved together, acting as one. He told her another story, which was terrible, but meaningful all the same. In turn, she decided to tell him stories of her youth, when things were kinder.

He caught a bear, insistent on catching one despite her comments of how difficult it was to skin one sometimes. He threw the axe at a large capercaillie that was hiding in one of the bushes nearby. Normally guys really loved red meats, but this one also had a small *cough cough* fondness for fowl. As if anything he had or wanted could ever be small.

And Faye just let her thoughts go into unwanted territory. Time to steer back.

Arching a brow, she picked it up with care, close to her chest. At one point, he bumped into her, so she bumped right back. It should’ve been disturbing how he was carrying a bear and she a dead bird, but somehow it was almost, homely. What in Hel’s name was wrong with the two of them?

At home, he skinned, and she plucked. Both had their hands bloodied but were careful to wash it all away when they were near each other.

“Are you going to make another bearskin rug?”

“Blanket. It’s cold.”

“Ah.”

He liked bears.

With the lights low, they had dinner in companionable silence. The firelight was soft on them, shadows filling the room, but warming the two all the same.

Collecting the dishes, he murmured he would do them this time. She nodded, drying the meat they gathered. “I was thinking I could get some more cloudberries.”

He perked up, and she grinned. The poor man had developed a taste for the fruits’ sweetness just as children oft did. He loved tarts and pies especially. If she had the right supplies, she’d make a cake for him with the sweet tooth he’d gotten. Seemingly it was just tart enough for him to like. They both knew he was lying, but she didn’t mind.

“I would like that.”

She was finishing her task at hand, when Kratos startled her by appearing without her notice. Her hand slipped on a blade, and she cursed in Norse. Kratos automatically had her hand in his, moving her to the sink where he left her. From outside, he brought in snow, placing it over her cut, and fetching bandages.

Feeling bad for having him do this, she uttered, “Sorry.”

His hold was tender as he bandaged her wound. He’d learned from her how to better treat some wounds. Why a man who claimed himself a god even bothered to learn spoke a great deal. “I hurt you.”

Kratos wasn’t just speaking of the present. “I should’ve been more careful.”

He grunted something in Greek that was undoubtedly rude. “Yes…But I should’ve remembered.”

Faye only realized then that he was kneeling before her to inspect the wounds and to be more leveled with her. Damned tall bastard. Was this what it was like for everyone else to meet giants? She wasn’t used to being so short in comparison to anyone.

Flushed, her eyes met Kratos’, and he swiftly released her upon noticing their positions. “I-“

Clearing her throat, Faye looked away. “Er, how about we both get ready for bed?”

Right, the bed that they shared. Because that’s an excellent idea. Of course. He took a bath first as she gathered her clothing, inhaling deeply as she unbraided her hair. Hearing the water, she tried not to imagine what lay underneath the cloth. Choking at her own thoughts, she coughed slightly.

“How did I end up sleeping with Kratos?” She froze then, screaming inwardly, and letting out a high-pitched noise from her throat. “Bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Nope, I’m not…”

Her thoughts turned somber. “I’m not good for him.” Looking at her hands, she let out a sad huff before holding her head. “Not nearly good enough.”

Holding up the hand that held his, the one he bandaged, she thought of all the bloodshed. She thought of both their pasts. At least he was learning how to live. And her? She couldn’t afford to live for herself. The best she could do was try to live with herself.

Faye was starting to understand the urge to run out the door, just to make sure someone she cared about was safe, maybe even happy. If she was out of his life, if there was no one dictating their futures and roles, what could they have been? Would they even have met? Was any of this, worth breaking his heart? If not in life, then in death she would be.

And here, she’d begun to forget that the prophecy existed in the first place. It was getting easier to do that with Kratos beside her, the more she denied it, the more it hurt for when she remembered.

Faye had painted out the safest path she could foresee, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be without pain, or sacrifice. And Kratos? She didn’t want any of that for him. She didn’t even want him to get near the gods. She just wanted some semblance of happiness for him, just a little of what he was giving her.

Wiping away the few tears she let out, she chuckled bitterly. “And how could I ever measure up to…”

What kind of life could she provide him? What could she give him that Lysandra and Calliope hadn’t? If anything, she was only bringing him more tragedy. With him, with these decisions, she would have a little over a decade to live. That wasn’t much time for either of them. It was barely anything at all.

Calming herself, she turned, blushing profusely as she saw Kratos. Quickly excusing herself, she rushed past him, surprised but grateful to see he replaced the hot water.

This, this was going to be painfully awkward.

Was feeding herself to the wolves still an option?

When she returned, unlike _some_ people, she was dressed. Kratos was barely covered as he sat on the bedside, a grave expression overpowering his features. His gaze was intense, piercing into her very soul.

“Kratos?” He stood up and stalked over to her as he would one of his prey. His pupils were wide and dark, contrasting against his skin as it glowed in the firelight. Kratos approached her and held her face in his hands. They were warm, but they didn’t burn her. Nor did she feel fear, only confusion and worry. “Kratos?”

“I’d kiss you, if you’ll let me.”

Faye breathed in sharply. “Why would you-?”

He was trembling, more than she was. “I love you.” She became still, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised, but still was. “You, make me feel new, your kindness astounds me, and your words inspire me. Your laugh and smile lighten my heart. Your touch brings me comfort that few have been able to gift to me. I worry about you all the time, just as I admire you. Faye, you-“

The giantess couldn’t stop herself. She reached up and held his face as she pressed her lips to his. He was startled but groaned slightly as he tipped up her chin upwards. It was warm, soft, and it was somehow familiar, as if there’d been a piece she didn’t know was missing. It felt, right. To her horror, she tasted salt, and saw that he was crying. She’d never see him shed true tears before.

“Kratos?”

He picked her up then (a sensation she certainly wasn’t used to) and kissed her once more. This time, it was her who was startled. Needing air, she pulled away.

“I love you,” she admitted, her own tears falling, but her smile never fading. “I love you.”

This time, there wasn’t a hint of a smile, but a large one. “Faye.”

He said her name as if she were a deity instead of him.

At some point, the small kisses, tender and passionate closed mouth ones, coincided with their bodies’ need for sleep. He lay them both down on the bed, tentatively tugging her close as they moved next to one another.

Kratos wrapped his arms around her from behind, laying his chin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She tensed, not used to such physical contact, and relaxed. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into him a little, enjoying how comforting it was for him to be there.

* * *

He had begun growing a beard. It was a strange look, the full beard taking over his goatee. She was tempted to say he looked like an adorable bear with it, but figured he’d try to shave it then.

There had been a few times where she couldn’t help petting it though. He smiled, actually smiled, a couple of those times. “I could shave it.”

She snorted, “I kind of like it. How about you?”

“It makes me feel, new.”

New was good for him, apparently. She couldn’t blame him.

Stepping back, she glanced at the moon above them. Faye had done something foolish a few days ago: she’d gotten Kratos a gift.

It had been a year since the night they met, and she wanted to do something about it. So, she took a risk and went to see Sindri and Brok. Those two were still arguing, and it broke her heart sometimes to see them apart. She missed how they used to bicker over small things, and the jokes they all shared.

She cared about them dearly, and she was grateful they had been in her life. So, when she asked for them to craft a shield, she gifted them some of the items of her homeland. Too her surprise, both had asked if something had changed. Was she truly that readable?

Faye smiled Kratos’ favorite smile, the soft kind that held affection and joy. “I met someone.”

Sindri and Brok had different reactions, but the most unexpected was Sindri’s. He had hugged her. For a moment, she wondered if they’d been told of the prophecy, and how she might be gone in a little over a decade. She would be gone in seconds compared to the lifespan of the immortals. So, she hugged him back.

Miraculously, when she got the shield, it had both of their marks, enough to match her axe.

Now, she could truly help protect her future husband and child on their journey…To her final resting place, and beyond.

And Jörmungandr? She told him the same thing she told the dwarrow.

Villagers by her home, near the ruins, were glad to hear she found someone, and they asked when there was to be a wedding.

A wedding, she hadn’t even thought about that. But, until she did, they gave her a companion. It was a small gyrfalcon. She named the bird, Jöphie.

With growing forces and the impending fear of the prophecy, she’d had to add more protective charms. Jöphie held Odin’s ravens away. She asked Kratos to tell him if he ever saw the foul, fowl. He did so without questioning her even when she offered to tell him. He trusted her that much.

Guilt plagued her

Y’know, for someone who could see parts of the future, she was a bloody fool.

And, she was a bloody fool who never thought she’d become so soft. Underneath the moonlight, she sat up in a tree while he peered up at the sky from the trunk. He wasn’t much of a climber, even if he claimed to have climbed mountains and gods and titans, because he didn’t want to break their home.

“Kratos?” He blinked up at her, and she grinned as she got up. “Catch me.”

She ran as he processed her words, and he huffed in turn. He likely still didn’t know about her advanced hearing, since she could’ve sworn, “Slayer of gods, destroyed an entire pantheon, and she thinks she can-“

She took out her slingshot and aimed above his head at a pile of snow resting on some branches. She dashed for her life as the white powder coated him, unable to contain a snicker. She used to play these kinds of games with her family all of the time. Now, she got to do so with him.

Landing on the ground, she saw Kratos not far behind. Sliding across the ice, she laughed, “Wahoo!”

He grinned, only for the smile to falter as he started to slip. For someone who had lived in this land for such a long time in the eyes of mortals, he still had yet to master a great deal in this realm. Some of the ice had been open, so she dipped her hand in the water, and splashed it at him. He was obviously confused by her sudden childish behavior, but went after her anyways.

She wondered if he felt as young as she did with him. Getting to the other side, away from the ice, she realized she couldn’t find him. A shiver went up and down her spine, and she barely dodged him. He was just as breathless as she was.

Giggling, she asked, “What, can you turn into an animal?”

He wrinkled his nose, clearly offended. “I’m not that kind of god.”

Kratos was getting better at using his words every day. In some ways, he reminded her of snow. He was like the ground beneath them now, covered in ice and potentially deadly. But when spring came? How he bloomed. Both sides, both seasons, were wondrous.

He grinned, “By the gods, you’re beautiful.”

It was enough to stun her, and for him to catch her in his arms. He still made it so she was on top of him, shielding her from the snow. She laughed, and he chuckled, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Trickster,” she teased.

He leaned up, pressing his lips against hers. She returned it, warmth filling her. “Vixen.”

She blushed, cradling his cheek. “You’re always reckless. You know that? It worries me.”

He frowned, sitting up, but not removing her from his lap. “I’m trying to be better. But I will not allow you to be harmed.”

Faye pressed her forehead against his. “You’re a stubborn one, so I got you something.” She got up and reached behind a tree to produce the Guardian Shield. “It’s, a partner to the Leviathan Axe.” Inhaling, she added, “I don’t want you to be harmed either.”

Gently, he took it, placing it on his arm. “Faye, I…Thank you.”

It was easy to understand expressing gratitude was hard for him to do, so she didn’t mind his awkwardness about it.

“But why-?

“It’s been a year since we first met,” she murmured. “I thought I should get you something.”

After a moment, he set down the shield, and pulled something out from his belt. Carefully placing it in her hand, she breathed. It was a dagger. On the handle was symbols from both of their realms. She examined it, relaxing and feeling happiness surge within her.

“It’s beautiful.”

He made a huff of what sounded like relief. “Good.”

From the slight crudeness of it, she knew he had to be the one that made it. That made it even more enchanting.

Setting it on her own belt, she almost laughed when she saw Kratos picking up the shield and practicing stances with it. The grumpy face only made it harder to do so. So, she showed him, gladly watching as he practiced using it and her axe in unison. He helped her learn how to use the dagger, even though she’d been reluctant to use it against him.

At some point, they came face to face, their breaths visibly mingling out in the frostbitten cold. Then, she was the one to kiss him. They lowered their weapons around each other, and embraced. His fingers moved across her cheeks and through her hair. Hers lingered on his shoulder and face.

It was a beautiful night.

* * *

They had done it, Kratos’ chains had been removed.

It was exhausting for both of them, but the blasted chains were finally removed from his flesh. The first thing he had done was kiss her senselessly. But at the same time, she had to tend to her wounds, and he made sure she rested from using so much energy.

Waking up to see his much more relaxed expression? It was ethereal in comparison to his tightened expression. The moment she held his face, it was obvious he was awake when he held her palm there and kissed the center of it.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?’ she joked. At his expression, she sighed, “I’ve been through far worse Kratos. I’ll be fine. Will you be?”

They had attempted to throw such haunting things into the river, and Kratos tried to throw them far from there past the woods. Nothing had worked. The blades kept returning for some reason, a reminded of Kratos’ past he could not get rid of.

He flexed his hands then. The reddened marks hadn’t faded, but the metal of the chains hadn’t returned. “Yes, it is, lighter.”

This time, it was she who pressed her lips into his palm. Then, it was the markings on his skin, including the scars and tattoos on his face. She probably should’ve expected the way he kissed her after that, as if he wanted to breathe her in. It took a moment, but she tried to return it.

After a few moments though, it became overwhelming. She gasped for air, wheezing and he immediately stopped, concern in his tone. She whispered an apology, and he just kissed her forehead. He held on to her tightly, but not too much. There were still moments he was scared to touch her, just as much as he wanted to hold on.

Kratos murmured, “Don’t be sorry…I’ll try to be better.”

She peered up at him, “You’re a good person, Kratos. You don’t have to be sorry so much.”

He rumbled, his body language conveying that she needed to be quiet and rest. He wasn’t always able to take her words to heart, but she did her best anyways. “…There was a horse that wished for vengeance upon his enemy, a stag.”

This man, was terrible at story-telling.

“But, he could not kill the stag alone. The horse met a man, a hunter. They made a deal. The horse wore the man’s bridle and sadle. He let the man sit on his back.”

All of these stories, Faye knew he was speaking of himself within them. Although, comparing himself to a horse was a bit strange.

“They killed the stag. The hunter did not release the horse, and the horse became his slave.”

In some ways, Faye wondered if stories like these were hers as well.

* * *

It was foolish, and more than a little unbelievable, but Faye had forgotten the prophecy. She was at peace, and hopefully it was the same for Kratos.

They hunted together. He watched from afar as she helped villagers and aided travelers. They sparred, and she knew he could easily beat her with his god-like qualities, but that didn’t mean she didn’t make it difficult for him.

He was truly a cunning one, and when he melted, he was more than a bit of a trickster even if he showed it only to her. It made Faye more than a little possessive to be honest.

Valhalla, what was wrong with her?

In any case, it was getting harder and harder to push away the inevitable. Her fate, her death, had always been tired to him. Before she’d been afraid of meeting him, living with him, and…

Now? Now she was scared of leaving him more than anything. Leaving him and their future son alone. All the weapons she gave and made, the paths she marked, and the knowledge she gave them, would it ever be enough?

She tried to change so much. She even did her best to make sure Kratos would be okay, that he would survive for far more years past her.

Faye, the Just, the Last Guardian, warrior and protector, was scared to be a mother, to say goodbye.

“Faye?”

Kratos looked at her as she sat at the top of a treeline. She smiled at him, trying to hide her inner war. “Enjoying the view. I never get tired of it, being so high up.”

She knew Kratos didn’t enjoy it as much, with his experiences with height, but he was okay with her adoration of it. She told him that she used to watch sunsets and the rising dawn with her family from cliffs, that heights made her feel closer to them.

To her surprise, Kratos climbed oh so carefully to meet her at the top. She asked his name, and he hummed, “Yes, it is.”

He’d been looking at her though. Snorting, she leaned against his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her as they watched the sunset.

“…Kratos? I have something to ask of you.”

He looked her in the eye, expectant. “It’s no easy task but, we both know I won’t live as long as you.” He looked pained, unsure and likely to protest, but he didn’t know what for. She held his cheek, “It’s a selfish wish but please, when it’s my time? Take my ashes to the highest point in the realms? That way, I can see them again, all of this, one more time.”

He made a choked sound. “We do not have to-“

“Please, Kratos,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Please promise me this.”

He too was battling an inner war. It showed in his normally stoic expression. Finally, he said, “I promise, Faye.”

He still said her name like it was a prayer.

She hugged him, clutching on. Kratos hugged her back. “Is today when-?”

“It’s the day they died,” she confirmed.

And it was all her fault. Please, don’t let it be her fault this time if something happens to Kratos and their son. Please, let there be some good in the world to protect them both. Please, don’t make saying goodbye hurt as much as it already did.

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier from Kratos' POV:
> 
> He was about to say something, when she fired three more arrows, getting most of them. The largest one somehow managed to sneak up on her, but she fought it off by slashing its throat with one of her knives. Twisting, she shot the last one in the throat, and ran over, plunging her knife into its heart.
> 
> ...Top him, please.


End file.
